


A Temporary Partnership

by Millerita



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millerita/pseuds/Millerita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the brutal murder of their sister, Mary and Edith must come together to solve the crime the police won't. AU/Noir 1940s London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

            1946 was supposed to be a new start. The world had changed; the war was over, men had been returning from the front, settling back into their homes. It should have been a time of celebration. Those from the Allied Forces could release a collective sigh of relief… everyone could really. It was a new year, new opportunities. Sybil smiled to herself as the thought of new experience flitted across her mind. It was New Years Eve, she was young and alive, there was a lovely young man waiting for her in the small room he rented above the bar where he worked. Oh yes, it was going to be a lovely start to the New Year.

 

            Tom would be waiting for her behind the bar. Waiting for her to arrive so that he could slip away, they would ring in the New Year together. Sybil had finally agreed that it was time to move their relationship to the next level. It was going to be a big night. She giggled to herself as she thought of what would happen in his single bed, the noise from the club would drown out any that they might make. Oh yes, this would be a night she would remember for the rest of her---

 

            A sickening crack echoed throughout the street. A hard thud signaled the youngest Crawley daughter falling to the cold road. Just a few steps from a brick building, still slightly damaged from air raids. The flashing neon sign cast an eerie glow on the lifeless body of the young heiress. Blood pooled around her head like a horrific halo. Sybil really should have known better. This late at night, with rain coming down in sheets. Few could have foreseen the trouble that was lurking and only one could plan it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Reggie’s was an upscale place. Built in the basement of a brick building that had been damaged during the war. The drinks were always flowing, the music was always playing, and the atmosphere lively but not obnoxious. Matthew and Thomas Branson ran the club like a well-oiled machine. The two were often found behind the bar, sweet-talking the customers and keeping the cigarettes between pretty red lips lit.

 

            Tom glanced nervously around the room, the fifth time in the last ten minutes. It was starting to wear on his brother Matthew’s nerves. By the sixth search he had had it.

 

            “Thomas, she’s running late, just calm yourself.” Matthew snapped, refilling his glass whiskey. In contrast to his brother, Matthew’s gaze was fixed solely on one person in the room.

 

            “It’s not like her to be late. Not this late anyways. It’s almost midnight.”

 

            “It’s pouring out---“

 

            “It’s London, when isn’t it pouring out? That’s no excuse.”

 

            “Maybe she couldn’t get a cab and is coming on foot.”

 

            “Maybe you should stop staring at the illustrious Mrs. Carlisle and listen to my legitimate concerns.” Thomas said, his voice growing louder with each word.

 

            “I am not staring at anyone.” Matthew denied, finally turning away. “And it isn’t a legitimate concern, it’s an unwarranted one. She’s 10 minutes late.”

 

            “Something isn’t right. I’m going to go look for her.”

 

            Despite Matthew’s insisting that it was an overreaction and that this display would only scare her off, Thomas pulled on his jacket and hurried to the stairs leading up to the street.

 

            The bar was crowded, which was hardly surprising given the holiday. After the damn war ended it seemed the only thing anyone wanted to do was celebrate. It wasn’t even limited to the people of his age, those that had fought. An older crowd had started to appear every night, keen to have a drink and a dance.

 

            It was impossible for Matthew to control his eyes as they drifted back to the corner booth. The Carlisle. Sir Richard, a prick if Matthew ever knew one. He ran one of the most influential papers in London. In addition to his legitimate affairs, Richard also dabbled in the hidden depravities of the city. How he ever ended up married to Mary Crawley Matthew would never know. He took another sip from his whiskey as he thought about it. She looked gorgeous, dressed impeccably for the evening. The halter dress reached her ankles, but made up in bare shoulders what it failed to show of her legs. The cream material was covered with see-through red lace that had been formed in the shape of flowers. Her wrists were covered with gaudy diamonds, probably at her husband’s insistence. But her neck remained clear, save for the presence of Richard’s hand curled around the nape. An overzealous display of control, but it certainly made his point.

 

            It was almost cruel the amount of time Matthew had to watch the couple. It was a double edge sword to be sure. The pleasure of Mary with the risk of being caught staring by her jealous husband. But it was a risk he was happy to take. Even if it meant turning down every blonde in the bar until a close enough brunette threw herself at him, they were poor substitutes but it kept his bed warm. For as infatuated as he was with Mary Carlisle, he wasn’t a saint. After the war he wanted very little in his life: a steady supply of alcohol and the occasional willing young lady to keep him company. No one could begrudge a veteran those luxuries.

 

            He broke his gaze long enough to look at the stage. The new girl clearly wasn’t new to performing.

 

            “I told you.” Came a voice from the other side of the bar.

 

            “You often do, Mrs. Hughes. On what this time?”

 

            “I believe you told me that a girl called Ethel couldn’t possibly sound any better than her name.”

 

            “I stand corrected and slightly less prejudice towards the name.” He laughed. As the girl finished her song, the band took over with an instrumental piece. He couldn’t quite place the melody… Something ‘Dream.’

 

            Even with the music Matthew could hear his brother’s cries. The entire club could hear Thomas wailing. There was a rush of people moving towards the street, by the time Matthew managed to push through a crowd had formed around his brother. For a moment all he could do was stand there and stare. The night was cold and the rain freezing, Sybil’s body had taken on a bluish hue. Even if she had survived the attack she would have frozen to death before reaching help.

 

            “What is it?” Came a voice from behind Matthew. He spun around quickly, putting himself between the bloody sight and Mrs. Carlisle.

 

            “You don’t need to see this.” He assured her. The crowd forced them to stand close together; he could smell the champagne and cigarettes on her… and her husband’s cologne. “Trust me, you don’t need to see this.”

 

            “Matthew, what is it? Just let me--"

 

            Her screams were worse than anything he had ever heard before.

 

            “Sybil! Sybil!” She cried, trying desperately to get to her sister. Matthew held her back, keeping her from being covered in her sister’s blood. He searched the crowd for Sir Carlisle, as difficult as it was for Matthew to admit, her husband should be the one holding her. “SYBIL!”

 

            Toward the back of the group of onlookers, Matthew could just barely make out the tall form of a dark haired man. Before he could think on it further Mary collapsed in his arms. When Matthew looked back up the man was gone and Richard was hurrying towards them.

 

            “I’ll thank you to let go of my wife.”

 

            “As soon as she’s conscious, I’ll be happy to.” Richard glared for a moment before taking hold of Mary and pulling her towards him. “Perhaps you should see to your brother.”

 

            Matthew turned and realized for the first time that police had arrived. They were trying to pry Thomas from Sybil’s body. It was a difficult task, but once free the police were able to examine the wounds.

 

            “Tom, let’s go inside.” Matthew tried to pull his brother away from the scene.

 

            “No-- no-- I can’t leave her, she can’t be alone. I don’t want her to be alone--" He sobbed. “She can’t leave me--"

 

            “Tom, please.” Matthew finally managed to push him back to their doorway, unable to do anything but hold him as he cried.

 

            Richard was trying to comfort Mary, rather unsuccessfully.

 

            All of them too deep in shock to acknowledge the flashes of cameras, memorializing the savage crime for the people of London to examine over the first breakfast of 1946.


	2. Chapter 2

The papers love a good scandal. This was common knowledge, but the Crawley family had an intimate understanding of this fact. Their private affairs had been splashed across the headlines for years, dating back to the 20’s they had been a tabloid favorite. The mysterious death of a Turkish gentleman in their country home, the riff between their middle daughter and the rest of the Crawley clan. January 1st, 1946 every paper in London bore the same headline:

_Youngest Crawley Daughter Brutally Murdered_

 

            The article that followed was filled with observations from the crime scene and halfhearted theories on why the young beauty was so viciously attacked.

 

            Edith Crawley hadn’t seen the paper yet. No phone call came to inform her of her sister’s untimely demise. She certainly wouldn’t expect one. Sybil was the only member of the family to know where Edith was. It had been seven years since any of the family had had contact with the middle daughter, again, save for Sybil.

 

            Seven years ago it was made quite clear where Edith stood with her family. She was 20, had a small nest egg stored up from her allowance, and a friend in London who was willing to help her find a job and a flat. There was nothing to keep her at Downton. After the fight her departure was easy. In the middle of the night she snuck away with a suitcase and an address.

 

            Seven years later she woke up, a new year had crept in over night. The skies outside were grey, with a shake of her head she chuckled.

 

            “Start the new year much like the last.”

 

            The flat was quiet. She hadn’t opened the office yet and the pub downstairs was closed. With a sad glance to her right, she realized that the other side of the bed was still neatly made. Her dreams had gotten the better of her again.

 

            “I’ll find you this year, darling.” She whispered, gently caressing the unused pillow. It had been 6 months since the bed was shared. Edith had to laugh at the situation, she could go 7 years without her family but 6 month without him had felt like torture.

 

            “Edith!” She startled at the voice calling from the office.

 

            “Just a moment, Anna!” Edith quickly dressed before her friend could come in and check on her. Anna Bates had taken on the job of secretary after Edith was promoted.

 

            “You aren’t wallowing in bed, are you?” Anna asked, pushing the door open and throwing the paper down on the kitchen table.

 

            “Wallowing isn’t going to do anything to bring him back faster.”

 

            Anna started their tea, fixing a bit of breakfast for them. Edith was still putting pins in her hair as she glanced down at the paper. Her gasp caught Anna’s attention as the pins slipped from Edith’s fingers to the floor.

 

            “Edith, what is it?”

 

            She couldn’t hear a word, just took hold of the paper, clutching it.

 

            “This can’t be true. It can’t be. They must have the wrong-- yes, it must be a misprint-- nothing else makes sense.”

 

            Anna managed to wrangle the paper free before finally catching a glance of the headline.

 

            “Sybil?”

 

            At the sound of her sister’s name, Edith lost control and began to weep. Her sweet little sister was dead.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            The funeral was planned quickly. A week after the incident the police released the body to the funeral home, a day after that the ceremony was held. The turn out was sizable. Edith spotted her family at the front of the church, Crawley friends scattered throughout, two young men came in shortly after her the younger of whom looked especially crushed. Edith wondered ideally if that was the man Sybil had written to her about. Thomas.

 

            Edith thought it best to sit in the back of the church. She managed a seat in the last pew, away from everyone, offering her the chance for a quick exit if needed. Out of sight, out of mind, that was her role in the family. She fidgeted with her hat again, making sure that most of her face was obscured from people still entering the church. From her spot she could see her parents. Her father looked like his spirit had been broken, mother was barely holding herself together. It was difficult to see Granny’s face through the dark veil she wore, ever the slave to tradition.

 

            Mary was sitting straight as a rail, her rigid posture was nothing new. Although she seemed more on edge than Edith could remember. Probably had to do with the man sitting to her left. Richard. The man was a bastard, a fact widely accepted by the family. But his connections and money made his an ideal prospect for the eldest daughter of the Crawley clan. And the fact that he would take Mary after… after what happened with the ambassador’s son. Well, that alone spoke volumes. Edith had had limited contact with the couple, her departure took place before the nuptials. While there was no fondness on Mary’s part there did seem to be something there on Richard’s side of things. Of course what that might have morphed into over the years wasn’t clear. Regardless, Mary had someone to lean on. Edith couldn’t help but think how much easier this would be if her own fiancé was at her side.

 

            The service was a blur. Edith couldn’t even begin to follow the preacher as he talked about unforeseen tragedy, how they could all learn something from sweet Sybil, live each day to it’s fullest. There was one aspect of the ceremony that Edith didn’t think about, the family following the casket out of the church, therefore going directly past where she was seated.

 

            It was too late for her to get up and leave, it would only draw more attention. With no other option, Edith simply looked down as they walked down the aisle, turning her head away as they passed. Simply hoping that it would be enough to go unnoticed. Heaven knows she managed to go unnoticed for her first 20 years of life.

 

            She waited for the church to clear out a little more before making her move to exit. Her dress was simple enough to help her go unseen, piling on her grey wool coat over top and pulling her hat low, Edith made her way through the scads of mourners offering their condolences to the family. There was no reason for her to stick around, going to the cemetery would up the risk of being recognized.

 

            With one foot out the door, she was so close to the safe and clear. The sidewalk was in sight. Just another few steps--

 

            “Edith! Edith!” Her mother’s voice was hard to ignore. As she turned a pair of arms were thrown around her, pulling her close. “I thought that was you. Oh, darling I knew you turn up. You’ve come back.”

 

            Edith forced herself to pull away from Cora. Trying to find the strength to say what needed to be said.

 

            “I haven’t come back, mother. I came to say goodbye to Sybil. She and I have stayed in touch over the years… she was my last link to the family.”

 

            “Edith… can’t you… can’t you move past it? It’s been seven years. Why can’t we move beyond it? We all said things we didn’t mean.”

 

            “You know why. You and father made it quite clear where I stand when it comes to your children. I shan’t come back just to replace a void left by Sybil. I’ve spent enough of my life in the shadows of my sisters.” Beyond her mother, Edith noticed Robert starting down the stairs towards them.

 

            “Edith, please.” Cora grabbed her wrist as Edith started to move away.

 

            “I’m sorry, mother. I’m sorry about Sybil. But it’s really for the best that things remain as they are. And you still have Mary, no need to resort to the spare daughter.” Her words were cruel, Edith knew that. But her mother wasn’t asking her back out of genuine desire, she was grieving her youngest.

 

            Just as Robert was a few steps away, Edith made a run for it. While it wasn’t the most mature thing to do, she had to get away from there. She refused to let her father start into her. The night she left had given her all the verbal berating she would ever need from Robert Crawley. No, her mother hadn’t joined in quite as much, but she didn’t bat an eye at the things that were said. She didn’t intervene, didn’t put a stop to it. Not when it concerned Mary, heavens no.

 

            That was the simple fact of the matter. If it came to Mary or Sybil over her, Edith had no doubt where her parents would put their support. They had proven that fact to be true many, many times over.

 

            “How was the funeral?” Anna asked as soon as Edith had the office door closed.

 

            “Exactly as you would expect it to be.” Edith sighed, resting against the closed door. “Did I miss anything?”

 

            “Nothing to report. Have a seat and I’ll fix us some tea.”

 

            “That sounds lovely.”

 

            “You look like you’ve been raked over the coals.” Anna called from the kitchen.

 

            “I managed to escape just as they were getting ready to… I spoke to my mother.”

 

            “How was that?”

 

            “Painful. For both of us, I’m sure.”

 

            “What happened?” Anna asked, setting their cups down on Edith’s desk.

 

            “She thought I was returning to the fold. I was a bit harsh… but…” Edith fought so hard against her tears. “I can’t go back, I’m not wanted there. Never was.”

 

            “I’m sure that’s not true. Mothers love all of their children, no matter what.”

 

            “You’re children are lucky, Anna. You and John are such loving parents.”

 

            “Edith, your parents love you.”

 

            “The night I left my father informed me otherwise.” Edith offered with a sad shrug.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            “Was that Edith your mother ran after?” Richard asked as he and Mary made their way into the Crawley household.

 

            “Yes, I’m rather surprised she had the nerve to show her face.” Mary commented as her husband helped her remove her jacket.

 

            “Not that surprising. She and Sybil have been in touch for years.”

 

            “How do you know that?”

 

            “Sybil came to me shortly after Edith left, asking for help tracking her down.”

 

            “Oh… Sybil never mentioned.” Mary admitted quietly, a bit disturbed at the thought of her baby sister having a secret relationship with Edith. “Where did you track her to?”

 

            “Working in some detective agency. Apparently Edith wanted to slum it.” Richard hung up their jackets before heading in the opposite direction. “Drink?”

 

            “Please.” Mary made her way to the sitting room where she knew her parents and granny were already waiting. But there was another voice coming from with in.

 

            “Inspector Molesley, what exactly are you saying?” Robert asked, his voice giving away how on edge he was.

 

            “There isn’t enough concrete evidence to further your daughter’s case. Nothing was taken, so there’s no way to track the criminal. There were no witness, so there is nothing to go on from there.”

 

            “You mean to tell me that on New Year’s Eve, my daughter managed to be in the only street in London that was empty?”

 

            “That’s what our canvas of the area has shown. I’m terribly sorry, sir.”

 

            Mary could hear her mother beginning to sob again. It was the only constant sound she had heard in the last week. The run in with Edith didn’t help things. The specifics of her sister’s vanishing were never shared with Mary, she had too many other things going on at the time. Truth be told, Mary was rather relieved to have the constant bickering taken away from her daily routine. Of course now she bickered with Richard and that never ended well for her. Fighting with her sister and fighting with her husband were two different events. Edith never hit her, never slapped her across the face for talking back or threw her into wall for talking to Matthew at the bar.

 

            No resolve to Sybil’s murder would only plague their family. Her mother was barely holding herself together and had started to take it out on her father. Mary had heard them exchanging words on the way back to the car after the burial. Something about how he had managed to drive all of her daughters away. Even granny, who had always prided herself on being made of “stronger stuff” was suffering from this. Something had to be done. There had to be answers, someone had to be held accountable for this crime.

 

            Edith… that’s when the thought struck her. Mary hurried upstairs to Sybil’s room. She wondered briefly of how lonely it must have been for her, the last daughter left in the house. Mary switched on a light and began to circle the room. They had to be here somewhere. Probably somewhere that no one would think to look. The desk was too obvious, not under her pillows or the mattress because the maid would find them. The trunk at the foot of the bed yielded no results, nor did the bookshelves.

 

            That’s when she spotted it. A hatbox on top of the wardrobe. Sure enough, inside, beneath Sybil’s favorite turquoise hat were a bundle of letters. There was no name given with the return address. But she had the address. Opening the first one, she discovered that the handwriting was that of her absent sister. Mary knew they weren’t her letters to read, but…

 

_Dearest Sybil,_

_I was delighted to receive your last letter, these days I’ve been a bit down although I have managed to force myself out of bed this week. It’s so difficult without him here, but I have to keep up my spirits as you said._

            “So dramatic.” Mary muttered, as she continued to read.

_My darling sister, I nearly fell out of my chair when you shared your intentions for New Years Eve. The prospect of it probably has you exhilarated and also a bit scared? If my memory serves me right. Just trust me, as long as he loves you and you him, it will be worth the fleeting moment of pain. Once you get past that it’s rather enjoyable. Mama would throttle me if she knew I was advising you on this. It feels like I’m contributing to the corruption of a saint. But I’m so terribly glad that you asked. I was lucky, my first time was--_

 

            Mary quickly folded the letter and returned it to the envelope. She didn’t need to read any more about the sinful life Edith had turned to. The thought that she had been advising Sybil on _that_ … why Sybil would go to Edith over her… it hurt to know that she didn’t feel comfortable enough to come to her.

 

            This was honestly the last thing in the world Mary wanted to do. But, there were no other alternatives at this point.

 

            That’s how she found herself walking down the wet sidewalks, letter clutched in her hand as she checked to make sure she was at the right building. The sky had gone black during her cab ride to the neighborhood. Mary had used that time to read more of the letters, despite her best efforts not to. Curiosity won out.

 

            Mary climbed two flights of stairs until she stood outside what she assumed was the right place. With a deep breath she raised her hand and knocked on door that bared the sign “Strallan Detective Agency.” 


	3. Chapter 3

            “Yes?” Anna answered the door, freezing when she saw who was standing on the other side. “Oh! Mrs. Carlisle…”

 

            “You have me at a disadvantage, Mrs.--?”

 

            “Bates. Anna Bates. I’m Edith’s secretary.” Mary eyed the blonde carefully. She was petite, dressed simply in a blue dress, her hair done in a victory roll. Next to her, Mary felt completely overdressed. She was still in her outfit from the funeral, nothing could ever be simple with Richard as her husband. He insisted that she always be presentable and adorn with some piece of ridiculous jewelry that spoke more to his tastes than hers.

 

            “Ah, well, is my sister available?”

 

            “Just a moment.” Anna pulled the door wider, allowing to Mary come in. She watched the blonde disappear through another door.

 

            The offices were of a decent size, glass and wood partitions separating the waiting area from a larger office that consisted of two desks.

 

            Mary wandered through the space, glancing out the windows. The lights were off in the room, the streetlights casting an eerie glow. Upon closer inspection, she realized that one of the desks was covered in a thin layer of dust. Whoever usually took care of it was skipping out on their duties.

 

            “Edith will be along in a moment.” Anna announced, returning to her desk and gathering her things. “I was sorry to hear about your sister. I only ever heard good things about her from Edith.”

 

            “There were only good things to say about Sybil.”

 

            “Of course.” Anna looked behind Mary, noticing that the door to the apartment had opened. “Well I’m off, I think John’s had more than enough time to spoil the children by now.”

 

            “Have a nice night, Anna.”

 

            “You too, Edith.” She turned and nodded to Mary before leaving the sisters to their own devices.

 

            “Mary. What do I owe the pleasure?”

 

            “We need to have a conversation.”

 

            “Sounds like we also need to have a drink. Come through.” Edith led her sister into the apartment. “Have a seat.”

 

            “You live and work here?” Mary question, taking a seat at the small kitchen table next to the window. The lights were still out, only the flickering street lamp to illuminate the room.

 

            “It must seem awfully quaint to you, but I assure you, it’s quite lovely.” Edith pulled a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet and two tumblers.

 

            “Detective agency? Rather like a bad novel isn’t it? Do you and Anna have much business?”

 

            “A fair amount, focused on one case in particular as of late. That’s how Anna started here; her husband had been framed for a crime he didn’t commit. Came to us for help.” Edith shrugged, filling their glasses. “What are you doing here? How did you even know where to find me?”

 

            “Did a bit of poking around Sybil’s room when Richard mentioned he had helped her find you.” She held up the bundle of letters.

 

            “You read them?”

 

            “To make sure I wasn’t heading in the wrong direction.” She threw them down on the table. “You upset mother quite thoroughly this afternoon.”

 

            “Given the setting I think she was rather upset to begin with, don’t you?”

 

            “You didn’t help.”

 

            “I wasn’t there to help, I was there to say goodbye to Sybil. Frankly, with her gone I no longer have a connection to your family.”

 

            “Always so dramatic, Edith.”

 

            “Given that you don’t know the details of the situation, I suggest you attempt to keep your opinions to yourself. And as if you’re one to talk about dramatic behavior.” Edith drained her glass and pulled a gold case from her pocket to keep her hands occupied. “I’ll ask again. What are you doing here? You didn’t come to return letters or question my broken relationship with mother and father.”

 

            “The police said they won’t continue to pursue Sybil’s case. Not enough credible evidence.” Mary muttered, savoring the feel of cold crystal tumbler against her lips, preparing her for the liquid that would burn her throat in a moment.

 

            “We can’t let this go unanswered.” Edith replied, glancing out the window towards the lone streetlight that didn’t work. It would figure that the one light that was flickering out stood guard at her window. 

 

            “Are you going to share?” 

 

            “Hm?” Edith followed her sister’s gaze to the golden cigarette case she had been slowly turning in her hands. It was a sentimental trinket, Edith wasn’t much of a smoker, but he was… “Of course.”

 

            She passed the case across, her index finger brushing across the engraved _AS_ as she did so.

 

            “You’re far too sentimental for your own good, Edith.” Mary admonished, bringing the cigarette to her carefully painted lips and lighting it.

 

            “I’m well aware. So what are you proposing we do?”

 

            “Well, you’re already versed in this detective business. Although…” Mary twirled the case so that the desk light reflected off of it, mocking her inability to find the man missing from her life. “Not very good apparently, but the pair of us will be able to get further than I would on my own. I propose we work together… for Sybil’s sake.”

 

            “Sybil’s sake.” Edith paused, taking the case from her sister and holding it in her hands, almost drawing strength from the inanimate object. “We find who did this and then we go our separate ways again.”

 

            “It’s really for the best that we do.” 

 

            “Agreed.” With a clink of their glasses the temporary partnership was formed.

 

            “Come out to the office. I’ve already started to collect information about the case.”

 

            “Already?” Mary asked in surprise, following her out to the dust-free desk.

 

            “Of course. Something didn’t sit right when I read the newspaper articles. Actually the pictures, to be more precise.”

 

            “What do you mean?” Mary asked, glancing at the papers Edith was spreading out across the desk.

 

            “Well, looking at the pictures of-- of the body, her jewelry is still there, so is her purse. Nothing was taken. But with the severity of the attack there is no possible way that it was random. It was far too personal for a first time thief or mugger.”

 

            “So you’re saying--"

 

            “That this was an intentional crime to kill Sybil.”

 

            “Who would want to kill Sybil?” Mary questioned.

 

            “That’s the question, isn’t it? I think I know where to start asking.” Closing the file, Edith disappeared into the apartment, returning a moment later with her jacket and purse. “We’re going to the pictures.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            The theatre was in a less than reputable neighborhood. Mary was horrified, but followed Edith’s lead, walking down the sidewalk with her head held high, making no eye contact with those they passed. The marquee announced that a film called The Echo Murders was playing within.

 

            “I really don’t think this is the time for a picture show, Edith.”

 

            “We’re not here for the film, we’re here for the projectionist. Anything that goes on in this part of town, you go to the projectionist for information.”

 

            They walked past the box office, Edith nodding to the extremely tall young man at the window. It was a small theatre, understandably run down given the neighborhood, which was partially leveled from air raids. The film had just started so the lobby was empty. Mary followed as they climbed up the stairs to the balcony, then back to the projectionist booth.

 

            “Ah, the good Lady Edith, this is a pleasant surprise.” A fair-haired man greeted her.

 

            “Bit of an overstatement, William. But I do enjoy the sentiment.” Edith laughed, giving the young man a hug. “This is my sister Mary.”

 

            “Ma’am.” William nodded before turning back. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure? News on Anthony?”

 

            “Afraid not. I’m actually making an inquiry for another case.”

 

            “Of course. Just let me switch this reel. Can’t let them sit in silence, people may start to talk.”

 

            “Heaven forbid.” Edith laughed, taking a seat on the small sofa in the room. Mary took the spot next to her, although her posture was not so relaxed.

 

            “On the topic, anything more on your good sir?” William asked, switching out the newsreel for the film.

 

            “Nothing new. Still looking though.”

 

            “Of course. He’ll turn up. When you least expect it, it will be like one of the weepy pictures.”

 

            “Your lips to God’s ears, William.”

 

            “So. What sort of information are you seeking?” He asked, sitting in the stool across from the Crawley sisters.

 

            “Anything you might be able to find about the murder of Sybil Crawley.”

 

            “Crawley? Your sister?” He asked in surprise.

 

            “That’s right.”

 

            “Your gut suggesting that there’s something more devious?”

 

            “More devious than murder?” Mary interjected, annoyed at the caviler tone William was taking.

 

            “I think paying someone to kill another human is a right side more devious than carrying the act out on sheer impulse.” He replied, his pleasant expression dropping and his gaze meeting hers.

 

            “Is that right?” Mary retorted.

 

            “Yes. Hiring someone means you have the intention, the drive, but not the courage to do it yourself. You can find some grievous reason to take another’s life but don’t have the conviction to do it yourself? Cowardice and malice.”

 

            “You seem to know a fair amount on the topic.”

 

            “Well, we don’t all have ivory towers to dwell in, do we?” He countered, eyeing her jewelry. “Some of us had to become acquainted with the darker elements of life to survive. And you would do well to remember that, especially when you’re so far from your tower.”

 

            “Mary, wait outside.” Edith quietly directed.

 

            “What?”

 

            “Wait. Out. Side.” Edith repeated, careful to pronounce each syllable. With a huff she left the room, taking a seat in the back row of the balcony to wait for her sister.

 

            “I’m sorry.” Edith offered as soon as she and William were alone.

 

            “It’s all right, just don’t bring her in here again. I’ll come to you as soon as I have any information. I’m sorry for your loss.” He started to usher her towards the door.

 

            “William, please don’t be cross with me.”

 

            “I’m not. After how you and Anthony helped me, I could never truly be cross with you. I’ll start asking around tonight, see what I can find.”

 

            “Thank you, William.” Edith smiled, giving him a quick hug.

 

            “My pleasure.”

 

            Edith was silent as she exited into the theatre. She quietly tapped Mary’s shoulder before continuing back to the staircase and outside.

 

            “You do business with quite the sort of riff-raff.” Mary commented as they made their way back down the sidewalk.

 

            “Mary, if we’re going to do this, if you’re going to come with me for these sort of meetings with my contacts, you’ll need to remember your place.”

 

            “My place?”

 

            “We are not in upper class London here. This is not like dealing with your house staff. You cannot go into places with your nose in the air and your tongue hinged in the middle. I have to maintain a relationship with these people so that I can keep working.” Edith tried to keep her tone from descending into scolding, but it was difficult.

 

            “I won’t be spoken to like that from a film projectionist. Who is he to lecture me on the moralities of homicide? His sister hasn’t been murdered!”

 

            “No, but his wife was.”

 

            “What?”

 

            “His wife Daisy, she was murdered. But unlike Sybil it was simply wrong place at the wrong time. Mistaken for another woman who was running late that day. There was no reason to it, clearly he has some understanding on the matter.”

 

            “I didn’t know.”

 

            “Of course you didn’t. This isn’t like home, verbal sparring isn’t cute and it won’t earn you a pat on the head from father.” Edith sighed, slowing as her building came into sight. As they made their way down the street Mary waved down a cab.

 

            “Edith, I realize this is your area but do not speak to me like a naughty child.” Mary warned, glancing around them for any approaching taxis.

 

            “Don’t behave like it then. One hour together and already it’s like old times.” Edith paused, looking down at her shoes for a moment, her hand sliding into her pocket to run a finger across the cigarette case. “Why don’t you take tonight, think over the arrangement. If you can really cooperate on this. If not, I can continue on my own.”

 

            “I shan’t apologize for hurt feelings or any of this ridiculous hostility you have towards me. We’re doing this for Sybil, so I will see you tomorrow.” Mary replied curtly before climbing into the taxi.

 

            “Oh God,” Edith murmured to herself as the cab pulled away from the curb. “Grant me strength… or whiskey… it’s up to you, Lord.”


	4. Chapter 4

            It was almost 8 o’clock when Mary finally made her way home. Although she barely noticed. It seemed that the entire week had been rather dark, always an air of gloom. Granted that was the general feel of Richard’s home. It never truly felt like her own, never had the warmth of her room at Downton. Her current residence was cold, impersonal. Sometimes all she could do was laugh when the similarities between husband and home presented themselves.

 

            “Where have you been?” Richard called out to her as she quietly passed his office. The room was dark, so she made the foolish assumption that he was out.

 

            “I went to see Edith.” Mary replied in a firm tone, inching into the room. Richard had taken to the sofa, the only glow coming from the tip of his lit cigar.

 

            “What on earth for?”

 

            “I wanted to keep her away from mum and dad. She clearly upset mother this afternoon, it’s the last thing she needs right now. The loss of Sybil will be enough of a struggle without putting up with Edith’s vitriol.” Mary knew she had to lie, knew that if she told Richard the truth he would put a stop to it immediately.

 

            “That was a noble thing to do. And how was dear, old Edith?”

 

            “A bit of a mess, frankly. She’s taken on a profession, lives in a little apartment attached to her office. Pining for some missing man, although I’m not sure what that’s about. Didn’t really stick around for details.”

 

            “Of course not.” Richard always confused her. He was always amused by her disinterest, but would also mock her for it. But that was Richard; he wanted to marry her but only in public. He wanted to take advantage of her wifely duties, but longed for none of the _messy details_. There was no affection, yet he’d destroy men who dare look at his wife the wrong way. She was property. Mary had no doubts about the fact, no romantic notions that she might change him. Outside of social functions and the three times a week he would visit her room with the intention of creating an heir, she was free to be on her own.

 

            She was startled by a sudden jab of jealousy of Edith. Yes, she lived in a cramp apartment above a pub. But when she glanced around she saw that it was definitely a shared space. Even with her man away, she could see the bed for two beyond the partition screen, the shared vanity outside of the bathroom, touches of both individuals mixed together.

 

            Mary couldn’t begin to imagine sharing the amount of space with Richard. That sort of arrangement would end with bloodshed. Although, another thought flitted across her mind. Matthew, the nice young man from the club. He probably would live in a similar environment as her sister. Would curl up around some pretty blonde every night, probably that new singer.

 

            “Well, get dressed, we’re going out.” He announced, standing up suddenly and moving towards his desk.

 

            “You’ll understand that I’m not quite up for an evening out.”

 

            “You’ll understand that you are my wife and we _are_ going out.”

 

            “I buried my sister today.” Mary offered weakly, feeling as though that should be reason enough to let her disappear in the bathtub for a few hours before climbing into bed.

 

            “Did you dig the plot? Did you carry the casket? What have you done that you should be exhausted?” Richard asked with the relaxed tone, as if asking what she wanted for dinner.

 

            “Emotionally.”

 

            “Oh Mary.” He chuckled, taking a hold of her rather firmly and ushering her towards the door. “We both know you don’t waste your time with emotions. Now go change. The filmy gray dress, I shan’t take you completely out of mourning.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            The club was quiet, not that shocking for a Wednesday night. It was a great mystery of Reggie’s, every Wednesday, as soon as 9.30 hit the place just seemed to hit a lull. The atmosphere became more like a nice restaurant than a hot spot.

 

            “Tom?” Matthew interrupted his brother’s train of thought, forcing him to look up at him.

 

            “What is it?”

 

            “Go upstairs.”

 

            “No, no. It’s my night to work, so I’m going to work.” His tone was low, unenthused.

 

            “Go, you’re depressing the customers.”

 

            “All seven of them?”

 

            “Yes. Go.”

 

            The week had been painful for Thomas. Sleep eluded him on a nightly basis, every time he closed his eyes he was tortured by the sight of Sybil, bloodied on the sidewalk out front. Enough snow had fallen that the stain was covered, but Thomas knew it was there.

 

            Matthew was surprised to see Mary trailing in behind her husband. Clearly this was their last stop of the night, a light supper before heading home. The night had taken a toll on Mary, although given what the day had been it was a shock to see her out and about. He chalked it up to her husband’s insistence. Richard was a notorious bastard and Matthew would have refused him service if the man didn’t hold his lease.

 

            Richard took a seat in their usual booth while Mary made her way to the bar to put in an order for drinks. She didn’t feel like waiting for Lavinia to make the rounds. Matthew watched as she approached, freezing for a moment but regaining his senses in time to converse without looking like a fool.

 

            “Two whiskeys please.”

 

            “Of course.” He went to task, pulling the tumblers from their shelf and selecting the brand of whiskey Richard always insisted on. “I didn’t get a chance to say so today, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

 

            “Thank you. How… how’s Thomas holding up?”

 

            “I had to send him upstairs, he’s reacting as any boyfriend would.”

 

            “Yes, of course.”

 

            “Have you heard any more from the police?” Matthew asked, looking for napkins to slip under the glasses.

 

            “No, I’m afraid they’ve put the case aside until a lead presents itself.”

 

            “I’m sorry.”

 

            “Don’t be. There are other avenues to be taken.” Mary smiled weakly, reaching for the drinks.

 

            “Meaning?”

 

            “Pays to have a detective in the family.”

 

            “You?”

 

            “Other sister.”

 

            “Oh, of course. Edith. Sybil brought her around before.” Mary’s face fell for a moment, before quickly recovering. “Sorry, have I said something wrong?”

 

            “No, no. I’m just discovering this other side of Sybil’s life that I was unaware of. Edith and I haven’t exactly been on speaking terms.”

 

            “Happens.” Matthew shrugged. “Well, good luck with the endeavor.”

 

            “Do me a favor? Keep it between us?”

 

            “Of course, I can’t imagine that your husband would be thrilled about his wife running around London tracking down murderers.”

 

            “No, I should think not.”

 

            “Do be careful, though.” Mary just nodded, returning to her table, leaving Matthew wondering if she should share the news of this impromptu investigation with his brother or not.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            “The police have called off their search.” The dark haired man announced, taking a seat at the worn kitchen table.

 

            “Called off or just temporarily shelved while looking for leads?” The woman asked, setting a pot of tea down in front of him.

 

            “Perhaps the latter.”

 

            “Well, that’s better than an active investigation. You’re sure nothing has been left to chance?”

 

            “I have done this before.” The man replied in we well controlled tone, his offense at being question hidden.

 

            “That’s right, you have. How long was your last stint in prison?”

 

            His sigh conveys the irritation.

 

            “Remind me again why I don’t just kill you and be done with it?”

 

            “Because, dearest, you wouldn’t be able to get on without me. Besides, what would the upside be? No one is paying you 10,000 pounds to dispatch me.”

 

            “Speaking of our compensation, when can we expect the next installment?” He asked, dropping a sugar cube into her cup then adding one to his own.

 

            “Should hear something tomorrow. I don’t care for this cloak and dagger nonsense.”

 

            “I know, next time I’ll leave the negotiations to you.”

 

            “Maybe you should just make them standing up next time.”

 

            “A bit more tart to that tongue of yours than usual.”

 

            “It’s been that sort of a week.”

 

            “Next week we can spend a few days out of London, sound good?”

 

            “Lovely, dear.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Edith felt tired. She had been lying in bed for nearly an hour, but still couldn’t force herself to sleep. This happened sometimes, when her mind was trying to process too much information. Normally she was plagued with images of Anthony. Tonight it was Sybil and the family. It was strange, Edith couldn’t think of a single thing she missed from Downton. Her childhood hiding spots perhaps, but how important are hiding spots when you can disappear in plain sight?

 

            It’s a hard habit for Edith to break when she finally left home. If you spend a lifetime being invisible it can be rather jarring to suddenly find out that it was the environment more than the individual. That’s how she felt when she first arrived in the city.

 

_7 Years Earlier_

_Edith made her way down the crowded sidewalk, suitcase firmly in hand as she checked the letter again for the correct address. Gwen did invite her to stay anytime she was in the city. Well, after one very early train ride, Edith found herself alone in the city and in need of shelter. Gwen of course welcomed her with open arms, giving her the sofa to sleep on for a few nights and a few leads for secretarial jobs._

_While Edith didn’t have much experience as a secretary, she did know how to type and had decent phone etiquette. The first two locations she went to already filled the positions, so all hope was riding on the last address on her list._

_The frosted glass of the office door boasted Strallan Detective Agency. With a deep breath Edith clasped the handle and pushed the door open. Within a second the door hit into something solid, flying back into Edith, the momentum knocking her down. A muffled “oof!” from the other side of the door made her freeze._

_“Hello?” She called._

_“Yes, just a moment.” There was the sound of shifting boxes before the door opened again. Before her stood a tall man, his piercing blue eyes looking down at her as he held a handkerchief to his nose, which was bleeding._

_“Oh my goodness, is that my fault?” She asked, not taking note of the fact that she was still sitting on the floor._

_“I’m afraid I was standing too close to the door when you decided to enter. Trying to get all of these files shifted out of the way.” He explained, holding his free hand out to help her up. “I noticed a silhouette outside of the door and thought the door wouldn’t be able to open enough to let you in.”_

_“If the door’s blocked, how have you been able to get in and out?” Edith asked as she took to her feet and followed him into the office. There was chaos everywhere. Boxes stacked throughout the room, filing cabinets covered with dust and standing empty. The front desk was covered with files, two more desks sat beyond the wooden and glass partitions, one used for storage, the other belonging to the man before her._

_“Oh, uh the apartment through here, I’ve just used my own front door.” He smiled bashfully, just looking at her for a long moment._

_“Here, you should really sit down. Let me see to that.” She ushered him towards the only free chair. Edith covered his hand with her own and pulled the cloth away from his face. “That doesn’t look too bad.”_

_“No damage done?”_

_“Not that I can see.”_

_“Just my luck.” He teased._

_“Delightfully handsome, don’t worry.” She smiled, forgetting herself for a moment. He flushed and looked away._

_“Anthony Strallan.” He said suddenly, holding out a hand to her._

_“Edith Crawley.”_

_“Are you here for me?”  He asked, Edith quirked an eyebrow before he realized what he had said. “Oh, no, sorry I meant for my services. Detective work?”_

_“No, actually, I was inquiring about the ad for a secretary.”_

_“Yes, of course. Well, the job is still available…” He took a glance around the room, “obviously. Right now I’m just trying to get everything sorted. My sister had been helping out but as she is now expecting, that has become her focus.”_

_“Naturally.”_

_“So, it’s really a lot of unpacking and filing right now.”_

_“Sounds perfect.”_

_“Does it?” He looked surprised by her utterance._

_“Just what I’m looking for actually.” She smiled, realizing that he had yet to let go of her hand._

 

            Edith smiled in her sleep, inching closer to the left side of the bed.

 

            Blissfully unaware of the dark haired man lurking the pub downstairs. 


	5. Chapter 5

            Despite his wealth, prestige, and place in society, Richard considered himself a simple man. He had very simple expectations from life. In business, make money and demand excellence from his employees. In marriage, a dutiful wife who was given the finest he could afford and obeyed him to the full extent of his wishes. In mistresses, discretion and availability. The newest girl in his rotation was certainly proving herself capable of both. That lovely young singer from Reggie’s was an excellent addition to his collection.

 

            Ethel was warm, welcoming, and knew that when he was finished she would leave. Certainly a most effective distraction from the other areas of his life that were proving less than satisfactory. She was almost enough to distract him from the fact that Mary had been behaving in a most bizarre manner. While her indifference was certainly nothing new, her evasiveness was. The day after Sybil’s funeral, Mary disappeared for the entire day. A few hours for shopping or visiting her family was one thing, but for her to leave at 7 and not return home until 6 was not like her. It set off his radar, as well as a phone call to Mr. Carson.

 

            Charles Carson was one of Richard’s most reliable contacts. Throughout the years his services have been invaluable. If Richard required information or surveillance, Mr. Carson was his first call. This current situation may be a bit dull for him, but the money always made it worth his wild.

 

            “Carson? It’s Richard. I’ve got a job for you. I need you to follow my wife.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Mary pulled her coat tighter around herself as she made her way towards the corner building where her sister was waiting.

 

            “Given my husband’s position, do you think it might be a bad idea for me to be seen at a rival newspaper?” Mary asked as she and Edith fell into step. Side by side it was clear that the sisters had taken different stations in life. Edith wrapped in a well-worn green wool jacket, fitted at the waist to highlight her figure. Mary on the other hand wore a new gray jacket, a collar of black fur attached to keep her neck warm. Richard had selected it, to display her features but kept from easy access by two long rows of buttons.

 

            “I doubt anyone is too concerned with it. Besides, we won’t be long.” Edith led the way to the elevators, up to the third floor where they found themselves outside of the office of Mr. Michael Gregson, editor. Before Edith could raise her hand to knock a voice called from inside.

 

            “What?”

 

            “If you’re going to take that tone, I’ll come back another time.” Edith announced, ready to close the door again.

 

            “And deprive me of your company?” He stood at the sight of her, “You wouldn’t dare.”

 

            “Good to see you, Michael.” She shook his hand politely but was keen to retrieve her hand from his.

 

            “You too, Edith.”

 

            “At last, decided to take me up on my offer?”

 

            “Afraid not, Michael.” Edith replied, slightly more timid as she adjusted her engagement ring. “This is my sister Mary.”

 

            “Ah, I’ve now met all the Crawley sisters.” He smiled, holding his hand out to her. “I was so sorry to hear about Sybil. We’ll certainly miss her here.”

 

            “Here? What was Sybil doing here?” Mary asked, unsure what her baby sister would be doing in a second rate newspaper office.

 

            “Sybil wrote for us. Edith made the introductions when your sister showed an interest.”

 

            “That’s what I wanted to speak to you about. I know I’ve missed a few of her articles lately, was there anything inflammatory? Anything that would set someone off?” Edith asked, sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk, Mary following suit.

 

            “Hmm, nothing off the top of my head. A few pieces on the treatment of returning soldiers, the need to make sure all missing in action are found, there was one about how women shouldn’t rush back to the kitchen and give up the freedom they found outside of the home during the war. That one prompted a few angry letters, but they were mostly from other women. You know Sybil, took it all in stride, always chalked it up to ‘they’re allowed to have an opinion too’.”

 

            “Of course.”

 

            “These sound like questions in an investigation, Edith.”

 

            “Just checking a few things out. The police aren’t doing quite as much as they could.” Edith shrugged. “If you think of anything will you call?”

 

            “Still at Strallan?”

 

            “You know that I am.”

 

            “Can’t blame a cad like me for trying.”

 

            “I haven’t thus far, but that won’t always be true.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            “Sybil had been writing under a pseudonym, Branson Kent.” Edith explained as they made their way down the sidewalk.

 

            “Branson?” Mary questioned, flagging down a cab.

 

            “She also joked that she would be married to him eventually, might as well use the name now.”

 

            Mary sat stunned in the back of the cab, not paying attention as Edith gave the driver the address.

 

            “What is it?” Edith asked.

 

            “Sybil had this whole other life that she never told me about. Why did she never tell me?”

 

            “Because she thought you would judge her.”

 

            “I wouldn’t have!”

 

            Edith looked at her sister with a skeptical expression.

 

            “All right, perhaps I would’ve disagreed on some points, but I don’t see why she ran to you for advice.” Mary knew her words were petty, that it was pointless to be hurt by Sybil choosing to be close with Edith. But that didn’t take the sting out of the blow.

 

            “Not everyone writes me off as useless.”

 

            “I didn’t say that.”

 

            “No, you just questioned why on God’s green earth Sybil might want to come to me for advice. Why Sybil, who wanted to strike out on her own, would come to me instead of you. Perhaps I had a little more to offer on the topic.”

 

            “Yes, I read through some of your letters, apparently you’re well versed on a variety of subjects.”

 

            “What is that supposed to mean?”

 

            “Nothing. I just can’t believe you advised our baby sister on taking up amorous activities.”

 

            “Yes, well. She wanted advice on how it occurred between people who were actually in love. Not just a rush of lust with a diplomat’s son or the forced wifely duties.”

 

            “Oh yes, Edith. There’s nothing more pure than shacking up with a man twenty years your senior above a pub on cheap side.”

 

            “Cheap side? This isn’t a Jane Austen novel, Mary.”

 

            They fell into silence for the rest of the drive, making Mary’s gasp of surprise audible when they pulled to a stop in front of Reggie’s.

 

            “What are we doing here?”

 

            “Wanted to talk to Matthew and Tom. See if there’s anything they recall from that night.”

 

            “Be careful talking to Tom, he’s been having a hard time.” Edith just nodded, paying the driver before starting for the club.

 

            “Spend a lot of time here?” Edith asked conversationally.

 

            “One of Richard’s investments. We stop in after all of our other social engagements for the evening are done. You?”

 

            “Only once or twice. No need to come across town when there’s a perfectly good pub downstairs.”

 

            “Mary!” Matthew called out in surprise as the sisters made their entrance. The club wasn’t open yet, the floors were being swept and Mrs. Hughes was seeing to the cleaning of the tables. “This is certainly a surprise, I don’t usually see you in the daylight.”

 

            “Yes, well, it was Edith’s idea.” Mary managed nervously as the pair made their way to the bar. Edith glanced at her sister for a moment in confusion before turning her attention to Matthew.

 

            “Yes, I was wondering if there was anything you remember from the night… the night when it happened?” Edith managed before taking a seat at one of the bar stools, Mary taking the seat next to her.

 

            “I told the police everything I could think of, but they didn’t seem especially interested.”

 

            “Seems to be a common trait of there’s.” Mary muttered.

 

            “Did you see anything that seemed odd?” Edith cut in.

 

            “Not especially. Although… there was a man.”

 

            “What man?”

 

            “A dark haired man seemed to be lurking about at the back of the crowd.” Matthew thought back to that night, looking towards the man before Mary came towards him. “He was there, then when I turned around again he had just vanished.”

 

            “And the police didn’t think anything of it?” Edith continued to question.

 

            “Well, how far can they go on a man with dark hair? Half the blokes in London would have to be rounded…” Matthew’s words faltered, a flash through his mind of what he had seen during the war. “As I said, not much to go on.”

 

            “You don’t remember anything else about him? Skin color? Height? Anything that would make him stand out?”

 

            “White, tall.” He paused to think, trying to isolate the man in question in his mind. “Thought it was a bit strange that he was taking his gloves off.”

 

            “What do you mean by that?” Mary asked.

 

            “Well, one glove was off and it struck me as odd, given how cold it was that night.”

 

            “Did you see the absent glove anywhere?” Edith inquired.

 

            “Not sure. Things got a bit complicated after that.”

 

            Matthew smiled sadly at Mary before moving down the bar to speak to Mrs. Hughes.

 

            “Lot of good that does us.” Mary grumbled, pulling her jacket back on.

 

            “It might just, actually. There’s something I need to check back at the office.” The two climbed the stairs, finding themselves back on the street and the sun setting. Silence had descended between the sisters… until gunshots rang out. 


	6. Chapter 6

_“Anthony, did you by chance just throw these files up in the air and stuff them into the nearest available box?” Edith asked trying to make some sense of the folders she had managed to unpack and move from blocking the door._

_“I’m afraid sorting files has never been a strong suit of mine.”_

_“Yes, that secret is out.” He laughed, watching her flit around the office in her pretty blue dress. The short sleeves gave him flashes of her pale arms, the collar just low enough to display the arch of her neck. Her waist highlighted by the matching belt. Anthony began to wonder if hiring this young woman was a bad idea._

_He had become so distracted by her that he didn’t realize that the chair she had decided to stand on to reach a high shelf, was the broken chair he had been meaning to take downstairs. The crack of breaking wood echoed throughout the room, followed by a shriek and a thud. Anthony hurried across the room as quickly as possible, kneeling beside her and softly stroking her face._

_“Edith, Edith? Are you quite all right? Edith?” Her eyes fluttered for a moment, almost smiling at the feel of his hand. “Edith?_

            “Edith?” Another suddenly replaced Anthony’s tone. Edith slowly blinked her eyes open, surprised to see Mary leaning over her, raising her hand to slap her.

 

            “I’m awake, I’m awake.” Edith threw her hand up to block Mary’s. “What happened?”

 

            “We were shot at.”

 

            “Did you push me out of the way?”

 

            “No. I tripped and brought you down with me.” Mary lied, fixing her jacket. “You’re bleeding.”

 

            Edith touched her forehead to discover that there was in fact blood trickling from a cut at her hairline. She was trying to determine if this was a warning to stay away from Sybil’s case or if it was another strike against the remaining Crawley sisters.

 

            “Let’s get out of here.” They hurried down the sidewalk, Edith using the side streets and safer alleyways she knew.

 

            When they returned to the office Anna was quick to fuss over the cut on Edith’s forehead, ushering her into the living quarters to clean it up. Mary trailed behind, observing the surroundings again.

 

            “It’s really not a big deal, Anna. I’ve got something to look up.” Edith insisted as Anna pushed on her shoulders, forcing her back down into the chair.

 

            “Heaven’s sake, Edith. You’re just as stubborn as him.” Mary felt an odd pang as she watched the blonde clean her sister’s wound. Such tenderness being shown towards Edith seemed foreign, strange even. She tried to recall instances from their childhood when they had been hurt playing, a skinned knee or rogue splinter. Mary and Sybil always ran to mother or father, but Edith went to the medicine cabinet and took care of it herself. It was a bizarre realization, that her sister was neither offered nor sought out comfort from her family. But she accepted it from others. Part of her wanted to question why.

 

            “That’s the best that I can do.” Anna finally declared.

 

            “Thank you, Anna. Now, I’ve got something to look up.” Edith hurried back to the office, making a beeline for one of the filing cabinets. Mary and Anna followed, neither sure what the target of the search was.

 

            “What are you looking for?” Anna asked, moving closer to see which drawer had been opened.

 

            “Do you remember that case a few years back, there was a pair of hired killers? A man and woman, they would infiltrate their target’s life or home, take them down from the inside.” Edith thumbed through the folders.

 

            “Wrong cabinet, I swear the two of you are so bloody smart, yet you can’t tell one cabinet from the next.” Anna muttered, pulling open another drawer and quickly producing the folder Edith was searching for.

 

            “You think that these people are responsible?” Mary questioned, looking over her sister’s shoulder as she flipped through handwritten notes. “On what basis?”

 

            “Something that Matthew said. It’s a hunch, but worth looking into.”

 

            It was then Mary noticed that the sky had gotten darker, nightfall was upon them and she was less than willing to head out. The close call earlier left her shaken, though she knew better than to let it show. The last thing she wanted to do was return home, where Richard would be waiting to go out, and the trip to her parents’ house was equally as long. There was only one option.

 

            Anna was already putting on her jacket, preparing to head out into the cold weather. Edith was still reading the papers in front of her, trying to figure out what it was that sparked her memory. Mary sighed and took a seat in the chair behind Edith’s desk. She sighed again.

 

            “Yes?” Edith asked, not looking up.

 

            “It’s getting late.” Mary observed.

 

            “So it is.”

 

            “Cold out.”

 

            “Yes.” Edith finally glanced up. “I… I was going to pop downstairs for some dinner, if you wanted to join me?”

 

            “Downstairs?”

 

            “Finest fish and chips in all of London.”

 

            “It will be later after we eat.”

 

            “I have a rather comfortable sofa.” Edith shrugged.

 

            “I suppose that could suffice for the evening.”

 

            “Do you need to call in? Let your husband know you won’t be home?”

 

            “Might be a good idea.” Mary agreed.

 

            “I’ll leave you to it then. Lock the door before you come downstairs.” Edith left the key on her desk before heading out.

 

            Mary took a deep breath, waiting for someone to pick up the phone at home.

 

            “Carlisle residence.” A voice finally answered.

 

            “Yes, is my husband available?”

 

            “I’m sorry, ma’am, he stepped out for a few hours.”

 

            “Let him know that I phoned and that I’ll be staying at my parents’ house this evening.”

 

            “Yes, ma’am.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Mary locked the door as she was told and made her way down to the pub. It was quiet, but it was early and a weeknight. Edith had taken a bench seat against the wall where she chatted with plump woman, setting down to plates at the table. The place was clean enough, not the usual sort of establishments Mary chose to frequent, but she could certainly see the appeal. It was warm and cozy, much like the apartment upstairs.

 

            “Ah, this must be your sister. Pleasure to meet you, I’m Mrs. Patmore, I run the establishment.” The women held her hand out, which Mary met with a kind smile. “Best food you’ll ever find in this city.”

 

            “I look forward to trying it.”

 

            “Well, I’ll leave you girls to it. Edith, I expect you to say good bye before you head out.”

 

            “Of course, Mrs. Patmore.” As the woman retreated, Edith reached for a bottle of vinegar to add to her fish. “She’s a dear woman, her husband long since passed, left her the business to run.”

 

            “You’ve got quite the surrogate family started.” Mary muttered, picking at her own dinner. She had to admit, the fried fish tasted amazing.

 

            “Yes, amazing the difference affection can make.”

 

            “Oh for heavens sake, you make it sound like you were so unwanted at home.” Mary rolled her eyes, starting in on the small pile of chips.

 

            “Unwanted would imply that I was acknowledged.”

 

            “You honestly feel so slighted?”

 

            “Not anymore. I’ve made peace with the fact that mother and father have no fondness for me. They never did, they did their parental duties as far as I was concerned, but that was all. You and Sybil benefitted from their attentions.”

 

            “You’re so certain of this.” Mary questioned, it all seemed perfectly ridiculous.

 

            “I am. Straight from the horse’s mouth as it were. Well, not from mother, she of course couldn’t be bothered to say anything. But from father, yes. He made the fact of the matter quite clear the night I left.”

 

            “You’re serious?”

 

            “Why don’t you ask them if you don’t believe me.” They passed the rest of the meal in silence. Edith finishing first and excusing herself to speak with Mrs. Patmore before heading upstairs to make a call. Mary sat at the table, finishing her meal and thinking on her sister’s words. Her parents had always been rather evasive about Edith’s sudden departure. Mary had never paid much attention because she never felt that it directly effected her. Besides, she had more important things going on at the time than the impetuous actions of her sister.

 

            “All done, dear?” Mrs. Patmore’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

 

            “Yes, thank you. It was delicious.”

 

            “Tell me something I don’t know.” The woman laughed, taking the empty seat across from Mary.

 

            “Was there something…”

 

            “I wanted to ask you, how is Edith holding up? Truly? She always claims to be fine, Anna the same. But I want to be sure that she’s managing.”

 

            “We’re all a bit frazzled by Sybil’s passing.”

 

            “Yes, yes of course. But I meant about Sir Strallan.”

 

            “ _Sir_?” Mary could feel her eyes widen in surprise.

 

            “Yes, Sir Strallan. Didn’t you know?” She shook her head, “Dear man, you’d never know he had a title. He had been living in the country, still has a house there. But matters had to be dealt with here in the city.”

 

            “But, the detective agency?”

 

            “Every man needs a hobby. I like to think that it was all providence, leading him to Edith. Changed his world, suppose he did the same for her. The pair of them were inseparable before the war. I can only imagine how he’s holding up without her. He was so down after his first wife passed, sweet woman, lost in childbirth. Then his sister joined him with the detective agency, brought him around a bit, not to his usual vigor, but a bit better. Thought it was going to be for naught when she had to leave, but then Edith stumbled in looking for work. It was like a light went on, smiling all the time.”

 

            “How long have you known Sir Strallan?”

 

            “Oh, well on 20 years now. My late husband and I started renting from him in the twenties. First building he owned, struck out on his own after his father passed. A head for business that one, but would forget it if it weren’t attached.” Mrs. Patmore laughed, stacking the empty dishes and standing up. “I should head back to the kitchen. Just keep an eye on her.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            “Edith?” Mary called out, returning to the apartment, surprised to find the lights on for once.

 

            “Just a moment.” Came her voice from the bathroom. Edith reappeared in the room wearing a nightgown, distracted by returning her day’s dress to the hanger. “I put a night gown out for you, if you’d like.”

 

            The couch had been made up with a few blankets and a pillow, a clean white night gown resting on top.

 

            “Thank you.” Mary glanced around the room again, watching Edith move to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. It really wasn’t the type of living arrangement one would expect from someone with Anthony’s title. It was essentially one large room, the bed separated from the rest of the room by a screen, she was in the sitting area, the kitchen near the door that led to the office. “Not really the kind of space I’d imagine for someone with Anthony’s title.”

 

            Edith froze where she was in the kitchen, carefully setting the kettle back down on the range.

 

            “Mrs. Patmore does love to talk.” Edith murmured, taking the two cups in hand and passing one along to Mary.

 

            “Fall into the dirt and still come up with roses.”

 

            “I was unaware of his status when we met and when we fell in love. He didn’t even mention it until after he proposed.”

 

            _“What would you think of making it Strallan and Crawley?” Edith asked, gazing up at him from her place on the bed. He studied her for a long moment, taking in her pale form, wrapped up in blue sheets she had bought them. He pulled open the top drawer of the dresser, removing something before returning to her side._

_“We could save on a new sign if you changed your name.” He offered with a shrug._

_“Oh? Now why would I change my name?” Her tone was coy as she laid her head against his leg._

_“I thought if you had a really fantastic offer you might be persuaded to.”_

_“Well, let’s hear the offer.” She smiled up at him, turning so she was no longer resting her head on his thigh._

_“After the war, I come home and make an honest woman out of you.”_

_“You made an honest woman of me long ago, Tony.”_

_“I want to do this right, Edie.” It was then he showed her the small box that had been waiting in the top drawer of the dresser. A ring. A small diamond with a simple setting, bearing the art deco design of the twenties that Edith was so enamored with. “When I return why don’t we take a jaunt out to the countryside?”_

_“Know a nice little inn out there?” She smiled, pulling him back into bed with her._

_“Well, I actually own a home.” He began timidly._

_“A country home?”_

_“Yes, well an estate, a small one, been in the family for years.”_

 

            “An odd thing to keep secret.” Mary observed.

 

            “He had been taken advantage of by another young lady and wanted to make sure that it wasn’t money I was after.”

 

            “Where is he?” Mary asked, moving over so that Edith could sit next to her on the sofa.

 

            “Missing in action. It feels like such a cruel joke, I thought that when the war ended he would just reappear, he would be found. But nothing yet.” Edith felt her bottom lip tremble as she blinked back tears. Mary offered no words, just rested her hand on her sister’s. “He’ll be back though. He promised me. I know that he’ll return. He promised that I would never be alone again.”

 

            “You aren’t alone, Edith.” Mary had no idea what possessed her as she hugged her sister. “He’ll come back.” 


	7. Chapter 7

 

            Cora Crawley couldn’t stand how quiet their home had fallen. It scarcely felt like a home any longer with all of her children gone. She missed them, all of them. Mary’s visits would remain, she knew this, there was only so long the girl could tolerate Richard before she felt compelled to escape to her mother’s side. Cora would desperately miss Sybil, her baby was the last constant, her sweet giggle echoing through the house or her impassioned political debates with Robert over breakfast. She had had years to get used to the idea of missing Edith. It was almost imperceptible at first, her middle child so loved to keep to herself when she was home. Cora laughed to herself, sad amusement over the fact that it took losing her quiet daughter to notice just how much of a gap she left when gone.

 

 

 

            “Cora?” Robert called from the doorway, “Are you coming dear? We’ve got to meet the two new hires the agency sent over.”

 

 

 

            “Yes, of course.” She managed with forced smile. Robert could see his wife’s upset mood, knew what the cause was. It had been the same since the morning they received the news about Sybil’s death. Then the run in with Edith at the funeral. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she ran from him, it was far from the first time. But unlike that day outside of the church, Edith’s previous escapes were done in the middle of the night. He never had to witness his child opting to dodge traffic rather than speak with him.

 

 

 

            Cora followed him to the front sitting room where two people were waiting patiently. The man was tall with dark hair and piercing eyes, while the woman was a fair bit shorter and wore an expression as though she had just bitten into a lemon. Both stood upon their entrance, exchanging pleasantries as they retook their seats.

 

 

 

            “I’m sorry, you’re name has escaped me, Miss?”

 

 

 

            “Miss O’Brien.” The sour faced woman offered.

 

 

 

            “Mr. Barrow.” The man supplied, smirking slightly, as though his name were a great delight to be bestowed upon their ears.

 

 

 

            “You’re aware of what the positions entail?” Cora asked.

 

 

 

            “Yes, ma’am.” Miss O’Brien answered first.

 

 

 

            “Are you two acquainted?” She asked, noticing that there was a feeling of kinship between the two.

 

 

 

            “Yes, ma’am. Miss O’Brien and myself used to work in the same house. When the master of the house passed in the war, his wife felt it was best to move in with relatives.”

 

 

 

            “It’s lovely that you two have managed to stay together. I’m sure familiarity is nice to have. We’re a small household here. Just my husband and myself, though my eldest daughter visits frequently as does my mother-in-law.”

 

 

 

            “I beg your pardon, ma’am, but the woman at the agency said that there was another in the household.” Miss O’Brien questioned.

 

 

 

            “My youngest, Sybil… she… she passed away unexpectedly.” Cora barely managed to express the words. Robert took her hand comfortingly, before turning his attention to the pair sitting before them.

 

 

 

            “I’m afraid ours is a somber house at the moment, but the positions are yours if you are so inclined.”

 

 

 

            “Oh, yes. I think this will suit us nicely, don’t you Mr. Barrow?”

 

 

 

            “I do, yes.” He smirked again.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

            “Where did my wife really spend the night?” Richard asked, glancing over the top of his newspaper at Carson.

 

 

 

            “At her sister’s apartment.”

 

 

 

            “More time with Edith, that is curious.”

 

 

 

            “They appear to be retracing Sybil’s movements from the night of her death.”

 

 

 

            “Mary and Edith are tying to solve a murder?” Richard could scarcely contain his laughter. “That’s a sight to behold, I’m sure.”

 

 

 

            “I shouldn’t underestimate Miss Crawley, sir. She does have some experience in this field. Although they both seemed rather shaken after being shot at yesterday.” Carson explained, sipping from the coffee cup he was presented with when entering the room.

 

 

 

            “Shot at? Was Mary injured?”

 

 

 

            “No, she got down quick enough, pulled Edith with her. The latter had a bump on the head.”

 

 

 

            “Hmm… keep following them, Carson. Make sure nothing happens…”

 

 

 

            “Excuse me, sir.” Both men turned to the door where the housekeeper stood. “The car is ready, sir.”  

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

            Mary woke early that morning, her back sore from sleeping on the sofa. She and Edith had stayed awake talking late into the night, leaving them both rather weary. Mary knew she would have to return home, she needed to change and then she would visit her mother. There was another mystery that she wanted solved and her mother would be the only one to do so.

 

 

 

            Writing a quick note, Mary gathered her things, redressed and left the small apartment. Edith was still sound asleep when she left, curled up around the other pillow in bed, a small smile on her lips. It was then that she realized, it was the first she had really seen Edith smile in the past few days. She wondered briefly if the same smile graced her own lips when she dreamt of Matthew.

 

 

 

            Richard had already left by the time she got home. She changed quickly, passing on an offer of breakfast before setting out again for her parents’ house. If they were going to work together, Mary had to find out the source of Edith’s resentment. For the first time in her life, Mary was considering it possible to have a real relationship with her little sister. Because, Edith was as much her little sister as Sybil was.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

            “Mary, dear. You’re out and about rather early.” Cora greeted her daughter.

 

 

 

            “It was a strange evening. Should Richard ask please tell him that I spent the night here.” She saw how her mother froze at the request.

 

 

 

            “And where did you really spend the night?”

 

 

 

            “At Edith’s.” That seemed to startle Cora more than any other answer might have.

 

 

 

            “Oh? How… how is she?”

 

 

 

            “She’s well, respectively. Her fiancé is still missing in action.”

 

 

 

            “Sir Anthony?”

 

 

 

            “You knew about him?” Mary asked in surprise, setting her cup of tea aside.

 

 

 

            “While Edith has been reluctant to speak to us, her fiancé is rather old fashioned and contacted your father before proposing.”

 

 

 

            “Sounds about right. Mother, while on the topic I wanted to ask… what happened?”

 

 

 

            “We had a disagreement.”

 

 

 

            “That is an understatement. I tried to asked Edith and got roughly the same answer. Please, please just tell me.”

 

 

 

            Cora took a deep breath, setting her own cup aside and glancing around the room. She stood and paced for a few moments before sitting back down.

 

 

 

            “That terrible incident that happened with your… _friend_.” Mary nodded. “Your father and I were rather upset when we found out about Edith’s hand in the matter.”

 

 

 

            “That’s what you fought about? I had the same fight with her and we’re still able to speak.”

 

 

 

            “Yes, well, this went a bit further than your usual tiffs.”

 

 

 

_“You did this, Edith? You aired your sister’s dirty laundry!” Robert shouted._

 

 

_Edith couldn’t help herself, her pleas and explanations of how it was an accident were falling on deaf ears. She tried to explain that the man had tricked her, how he had slipped something into her drink that made her much more talkative than she ever would be with a stranger. With her parents’ dismissal, she just couldn’t resist…_

 

 

_“As far as I know, the laundry in question is still on the bed.”_

 

 

_The slap landed against her cheek before anyone could realize what had happened. Edith held her hand to her face, blinking back tears at the stinging sensation. Robert could only manage to stare at Cora who had yet to lower her hand. After a moment she started to move toward Edith, who quickly took a few steps away from her mother._

 

 

_“How can you speak about your sister like that? Don’t you care what this does to her? To us? You’ve damaged all of us, yourself included.”_

 

 

_“I’ve done nothing to myself. The outside world follows your lead and forgets that I’m apart of this family. Unloved by the family, but unscathed by the public. Seems a fair trade off at the moment.”_

 

 

_Robert looked as though he was going to disagree._

 

 

_“Go ahead, father. Tell me that you love me as much as you love Sybil and Mary.”_

 

 

_He was silent, as was Cora, who had taken a seat in a high backed chair near the window._

 

 

_“Mother?” Edith had thought they might try and correct her. Offer the platitudes of parents, assuring that they did love her as much as her siblings. Her voice trembled. “Tell me.”_

 

 

_“Perhaps you’re right.” The words escaped Robert before he could stop them. Edith recoiled as if she had been slapped again. There was no writing the statement off as an utterance in the heat of the moment. The words were not shouted or delivered after a long tirade. No. They were spoken calmly, contemplative, as if he were admitting something that he had never dared to say out loud before._

 

 

_Edith glanced in her mother’s direction. The dark haired woman sat rigidly still, staring at the floor, desperate not to make eye contact._

 

 

_“I always assumed. Always had Mary whispering the doubts in my ear. Always figured that this was where I stood with you. Really just confirming what I already knew.”_

 

 

_Edith walked very calmly to the door, pulling it closed instead of slamming it. Nothing could undo this. She had her confirmation. At long last, Edith heard it from her father’s mouth. There was no debating it. She would pack, wait until her parents went to bed then slip out the front door, sliding the key through the mail slot after locking the door._

 

 

_Cora moved to get up from her chair, almost to the door before Robert’s voice cut through the silence._

 

 

_“Let her go. She’s upset, she’ll be sensible again in the morning.”_

 

 

_“I don’t think she will be here come morning.”_

 

 

_“Don’t be ridiculous. Where on earth would she go?”_

 

 

 

            “Well, that explains her reluctance to come back.” Mary sighed, feeling exhausted as she leaned back in her seat.

 

 

 

            “She was telling the truth.” Robert announced from the doorway. He had entered the library while Cora was speaking but had remained unnoticed. “Edith was telling the truth, a few days after the article in the paper ran I received a call from the editor apologizing for the methods his reporter used to get the information. Goodness knows what prompted him to do so.”

 

 

 

            “We do love your sister. We didn’t know where she was for the first few years. Then Sir Anthony turned up, asking…”

 

 

 

            “Letting us know.” Robert corrected.

 

 

 

            “Letting us know that he intended to marry her. I’ve had her address for some time now. Occasionally I would… I would stop by, trying to work up the courage to speak to her… but I kept seeing her face that night, that look of defeat when she left. She clearly has managed without us.”

 

 

 

            “What are the two of you doing together?” Robert asked, finally taking a seat.

 

 

 

            “Your middle child has taken up a profession. Detective work. We’re going to find Sybil’s killer.” Mary felt as though her words echoed throughout the whole of London. She suddenly suspected that the wrong person knew of the intentions of the Crawley sisters. Whoever it was would be coming after them again... and soon.


	8. Chapter 8

            “How was your mother last night?” Richard’s tone couldn’t fool Mary, she knew that he was fishing, that he didn’t trust her. Rightly so as it would turn out, but she wasn’t caught in his trap just yet.

 

            “Not well, she’s understandably upset. Although she finally managed to hire some more help.” Mary replied casually, sipping from her glass of champagne and looking over the crowd that gathered at their usual bar that night. “How’s your mistress of the month?”

 

            Her voice was soft and casual; she hesitated to look up at him. But could certainly feel his eyes on her, that unwavering stare.

 

            “Don’t make a scene, Mary. You offer me no warmth, you can hardly begrudge me seeking comforts elsewhere.”

 

            Mary felt her face flush, her hands shook and the sound of blood rushing in her ears cancelled out all other noise. Without another word she simply stood up and walked away from the table. Richard watched her walk away, not particularly caring where she was going to, so long as she didn’t leave.

 

            Instead of heading towards the street, Mary climbed the stairs that led to the ladies room and took to the small sitting room just inside the door. For the rest of the night she watched women come and go, all in various states of emotion. There was one dowdy woman who took to a stall for a quick sob, while others skipped through, giggles echoing throughout the room. Mary just sat still, contemplating what she did and what was left to do. Could she truly leave Richard?

 

            It had long been a topic she considered. He had never been the husband she had hoped for. While his money made sure that her lifestyle was comfortable, his attitude towards her made for an unpleasant, unhappy life. The last week spent with Edith and learning about Sybil’s secret life had left Mary feeling jealous. Her sisters had bucked against the system and pursued the lives that made them happy. Sybil would have happily lived in the small apartment upstairs with Tom, writing her articles and starting a family. Edith had some how managed a man with a title, a fortune, and a profession.

 

            At that moment her mind was made up. Richard made no secret that he turned elsewhere for companionship. Why shouldn’t she do the same? If Edith could have Anthony and Sybil have Tom, why shouldn’t she have what she wanted?

 

            “Mrs. Carlisle?” Her head shot up as Mrs. Hughes appeared in the sitting room. Mary quietly shook her head, pressing her finger to her lips. The woman simply nodded and returned to the hallway where she heard her say, “I’m sorry, Mr. Carlisle, she isn’t in there. Perhaps she took a cab home?”

 

            Mary listened as the people outside the door moved away. She could just imagine the look of anger on her husband’s face. But she couldn’t bring herself to care. Enough was enough.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            “Mrs. Hughes, I’m going to head up to bed.” Matthew called out as he headed for the backstairs. He was exhausted, climbing the stairs felt slightly more daunting than usual. Tom had yet to snap out of his depression, still moping around the bar and struggling to keep up with his usual duties. While Matthew tried to understand he was beginning to crumble under the pressure of running everything on his own. Tom was his brother but more than that he was his business partner.

 

            Running on autopilot, he closed the bedroom door behind him, reaching a hand up to undo the buttons of his shirt. Not registering at first the red velvet dress draped over the desk chair. It wasn’t until he went to remove his trousers that his mind realized why the feminine garment across his chair was wrong. He knew the dress; he had been staring at it most of the night until she left the room.

 

            “Should you be here, Mary?” Matthew asked, turning to his bed where she was waiting beneath the sheets. “Not wearing your dress?”

 

            “Should or want?”

 

            “Mary.”

 

            “Matthew.” She teased, lying back down against his pillows.

 

            “You shouldn’t be here.” He warned, taking a seat at the foot of the bed, trying hard not to stare at flashes of bare, pale skin. “You’re married.”

 

            “Never stops my husband.”

 

            “Mary…” She cut him off, taking hold of his unbuttoned shirt and pulling him into a kiss. The embrace was much fiercer than she had intended, it was as if every emotion from the past two weeks was finally escaping her.

 

            “Do you really want to finish that thought?” She asked when they separated for air.

 

            “No, it can go unsaid.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            “What prompted this?” Matthew asked later as they lay quietly in his bed.

 

            “I was tired of denying myself what I wanted.”

 

            “I was what you wanted?” He smirked.

 

            “Don’t look at me like that, yes. As if you haven’t been staring at me for the last year?”

 

            “Oh, I don’t deny it. But I’m not married to one of the most influential men in town. If he finds out about this I’ll have basically signed my own death warrant.”

 

            “What do you mean?” Mary asked, sitting up slightly so she could have a better look at the man serving as her pillow.

 

            “I mean your husband doesn’t seem the type to share and considering the sort he runs around with…” He took note of her blank expression. “Don’t tell me you know nothing of what your husband does to keep the funds rolling in?”

 

            “Matthew, be clear! What are you talking about?”

 

            “Your husband is involved with the mob. My God, Mary, are you really so dense? Is it not clear from who he hangs around with? Do you not notice the men that stop by your table every night? Did you really think he was that wealthy from newspapers alone?”

 

            Mary felt the dam break in her, the tears falling before she could stop them. Since Sybil’s death she had been internalizing everything, trying to keep her head above water. Her cheeks were damp in moments, the tears streaming down her face and onto the bed sheets wrapped around her. Matthew quickly sat up, putting his arms around her and pulling her close.

 

            “I’m sorry, Mary. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap; it just surprised me is all. You’re so bright I figured you had to know already. Given all the hits his papers been taking lately I assumed you would have this figured out.”

 

            “I don’t have anything figured out anymore.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Mary woke up alone. The sunlight was streaming through the cheap curtains, leaving the room with an unnatural glow. Her tears had dried, leaving her eyes burning and red. Regardless, she felt better finally letting go of it all. Quietly she redressed and made her way downstairs to the bar, hoping to find Matthew alone.

 

            “Edith.” Mary stopped short. Her younger sister was sitting in a booth with Matthew, both eating breakfast.

 

            “Morning.” She smiled as Matthew stood up and disappeared to get Mary a plate.

 

            “Not to sound rude…”

 

            “What am I doing here?” Edith filled in for her.

 

            “Yes.”

 

            “Matthew called, thought you might need help getting back home.” Edith managed with a small smirk. “Awful nice of him to let you stay in the spare room.”

 

            “Yes, so very nice.”

 

            “You need to get changed, we have to go see William. He has something.”

 

            “I can just go like this. I don’t trust that Richard will be out of the house yet.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            “So, you and Matthew.” Edith asked as soon as they were out on the street and walking towards the movie theatre.

 

            “Matthew and I nothing. Apparently my husband would kill him if he found out.”

 

            “Apparently? You were unaware of his connections?”

 

            “I seem to be the only one who didn’t know. Do you think mother and father know?” Mary asked.

 

            “Father must’ve known, or at the very least had a suspicion. But I’m sure his better angels were shouted down by the fact that Richard is wealthy and willing… sorry.”

 

            “No, no. You’re right, those were the main reasons I ended up marrying him.” Mary paused for a moment; “I spoke to them, about what happened.”

 

            “Oh?” Edith forced a calm façade, continuing down the street.

 

            “They believe you now. About the man drugging you… For what it’s worth they do seem to miss you.”

 

            Edith tried her damnedest not to scoff. She stopped walking, pacing forward a few steps before walking back to Mary.

 

            “They believe me?”

 

            “The editor of the paper called a few days after you left to apologize for the methods his man used.”

 

            “They didn’t believe me. They believed a total stranger. The notion that someone took advantage of me was far-fetched. It was easier to assume that I was being spiteful.”

 

            “Wouldn’t have been the first time.”

 

            “About little things. You stealing my hat is a world away from… you know what, no. I’m not going to have this argument again.”

 

            “Edith, why don’t you just talk to them? You know mama has had your address for the last few years, since Anthony went to see them.”

 

            “What?” She froze at the name of her intended.

 

            “Before proposing to you he went to for their permission. Mama goes by every so often to try and catch a glance of you.”

 

            “If she wanted to see me so badly she could.” Edith managed weakly.

 

            “She thinks you don’t need her, that you never needed her.”

 

            “Of course I needed my mother!” Her voice rose with agitation. “I always needed my mother, but she was too busy being a mother to you and Sybil!”

 

            “Edith…”

 

            “No. I don’t want to discuss this again.” With that, Edith turned and continued walking, leaving Mary to follow behind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            “William?” Edith called out as they climbed the stairs to the back of the theatre. He was supposed to wait for them out front but was nowhere to be seen.

 

            Neither was prepared for what they found.

 

            In the back of the movie theatre, in the projectionist booth where they last met, they found the lifeless body of William. His blood pooling on the concrete floor, slowly seeping from his stomach.

 

            “Mary, go call the police.” Edith said quickly, pushing her sister from the room. “Go!”

 

            Mary had gone pale and it took her a moment to realize what Edith was saying.

 

            “What is that…?” Edith whispered, looking closer at William’s hand. Mary moved in behind her to get a better look.

 

            “Are those letters?”

 

            “Yes.”

 

            “What does it mean?”

 

            “I don’t know… hand me that pad there.” Edith pointed toward a small notepad.

 

            _E BH OO BM E_

 

It had to mean something, these were William’s dying thoughts and Edith was going to figure them out.


	9. Chapter 9

            “These letters have to mean something!” Mary said, snatching the sheet away from her sister again.

 

            “Well, there’s no code that I can think of.” Edith mulled over the letters again, trying to find some meaning in them.

 

            Anna rolled her eyes as the sisters began to bicker again. It had been nearly an hour of listening to them. The sound of the sheet of paper being snatched back and forth followed by an annoyed sigh. She wasn’t sure how much more of this she would be able to put up with. Her own children weren’t this petulant and they were 7 and 9.

 

            “Maybe it isn’t a code, maybe it’s the way you’re looking at it.” Anna suggested, rendering both sisters quiet. She stood, taking the paper from Mary and looking it over. “How were the letters written on the floor? In a row across like this?”

 

            “No, they were written like this.” Edith took out a clean sheet and wrote the letters as William had.

 

_E_

_B H_

_O O_

_B M_

_E_

 

            “There, that makes more sense. E for Edith. Bob and Home.”

 

            “Makes a little sense anyway.” Mary muttered looking at the two words they were left with. “Who is Bob?”

 

            “Haven’t the faintest.” Edith paced the length of the office for a few moments, running her index finger across her lips as she tried to think. “Wait… wait…”

 

            Edith returned to her desk, pulling out the files that she had been so desperate for after Matthew told them about the man with one glove. Flipping through pages she finally found what she was looking for, sinking slowly into her chair. She turned the information to Mary and Anna who had been watching her movements in confusion.

 

            “It isn’t Bob, it’s B.O.B. it’s an acronym. What did William mean by home…”

 

            “Edith, we have to go now.” Mary said suddenly, closing the folder and pulling on her jacket.

 

            “Where?” Her sister asked, following suit.

 

            “The last place in the world you would want to go.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            “I wish they made those will a little more thought towards decoration.” Cora commented, eyeing the gas heater with displeasure.

 

            “Well until the chimney in this room is cleaned you’ll have to make do with an eyesore.” Robert answered from behind his paper.

 

            “When will the sweep be coming?”

 

            “Mr. Barrow was going to see to it.”

 

            The lapsed into silence, neither aware of the defective heater slowly filling their front sitting room with an odorless gas.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            “You must be joking.” Edith called breathlessly as she and Mary hurried down the streets towards their parents’ home.

 

            “I’m really not!” She replied over her shoulder, focusing more on avoiding the people on the sidewalk.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            “Are you quite all right, dear?” Robert asked as Cora covered her mouth to cough again.

 

            “I… I just feel so dizzy…” Her eyes fluttering briefly before she slipped from the chair to the floor.

 

            “Cora? Cora…” Robert stood in a hurry to get to his wife only to find himself taken by the same wave, collapsing near her.

 

            A knock came from the door before opening a crack. With a handkerchief pressed to his face, Mr. Barrow strolled into the room, simply observing the scene.

 

            “Oh dear, Miss O’Brien. It would seem that the Lord and Lady of the house purchased a faulty heating unit.” He called to the woman who was lingering in the doorway.

 

            “What a shame. Money doesn’t always ensure quality.”

 

            “One more after this and we’ll be ready for retirement, my friend.” He laughed.

 

            “I wouldn’t count on that, sir.”

 

            Just behind Miss O’Brien stood Inspector Molesley along with two uniformed officers. The front door flung open as Mary and Edith ran in, pausing as they came to the scene.

 

            “See to your parents.” Molesley instructed as the uniformed officers handcuffed Mr. Barrow and Miss O’Brien.

 

            Edith unplugged the heater, quickly throwing one of the windows open.

 

            “Mary, get another window open.” Edith ordered, moving towards her mother and struggling to get her to her feet. Slowly she moved Cora to the window seat, propping her up against the window frame so that her face was pointed towards the outside.

 

            “Help me, Edith.” Mary called as she attempted to get Robert to the other window. Between the two girls, they moved their father before Edith returned to their mother.

 

            “You need to breathe, mama.” Edith coaxed, urging her mother to inhale the fresh air. It took a few minutes, but both Robert and Cora slowly began to come around, coughing and slightly disoriented, but very much alive.

 

            “Edith?” Cora questioned, unsure if she could trust her eyes. “Oh… my child…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            “Hired killers?” Robert repeated as he took another sip of his tea.

 

            “Yes, when we figured out the message Edith showed me the file on the people she suspected in Sybil’s murder.” Mary explained, showing her father the page. “The sketches, I recognized them instantly after I was here yesterday.”

 

            “Mr. Barrow, the one-gloved man. He purposely injured himself, shot his own hand to keep from going to war. Took up with Miss O’Brien who had been his nurse. The two had knack for murder, making it look accidental. He has no feeling left in the injured hand so often forgets to put a glove on it. A detail that Matthew noticed the night they found Sybil.” Edith explained, keeping her business as usual tone.

 

            “Who would want to kill us?” Cora questioned, still trying to wrap her head around what they were being told.

 

            “No one in this room has any notion?” Edith scoffed, “Parents dead, siblings dead, who would benefit from that?”

 

            “There was an attempt on your life, Edith?” Robert asked.

 

            “They shot at both of us.” Mary corrected.

 

            “They shot at me, you got in the way.” Edith reminded her.

 

            “Very clever, Edith.” Came a voice from the doorway. “You know, you really ought to lock that front door. Dangerous men roam these streets.”

 

            “Richard.” Edith nodded in greeting, unfazed by the revolver pointed at her. “It really was an ingenious plan.”

 

            “I thought so. Then you had to go and get involved. I was going to let you live, the consolation prize for getting away from them. But no, you had to let Mary drag you into this little investigation.”

 

            “How do you know I wouldn’t have come forward for my inheritance?”

 

            “Because you’re infected with that nobility, just like Sir Strallan.” Edith paled at his words. “Poor man, going to return in a few weeks as a war hero, only to discover that his fiancé went mad while he was gone. You and Mary forced my hand, a bit of reworking of the plan. The tabloids will of course be thrilled, middle daughter of an Earl loses her mind, murders her parents then herself. Such a shame.”

 

            “No one will believe that.” Edith laughed, circling the room, moving closer to Richard, staring down the barrel of the gun.

 

            “The bullet in your head will be difficult to ignore.” His tone was smug as he cocked the gun.

 

            The next few minutes passed in a flurry. But when everything stopped Mary couldn’t believe what she saw; three bodies on the floor and a revolver dropped at her feet. 


	10. Chapter 10

The smoke from the gunfire stung Mary’s eyes. Through her tears she could make out the form of her husband, lifeless and bleeding onto Cora’s antique rug. Just beyond Richard’s body, Matthew was struggling to get to his feet. It seemed as though she had lost her hearing for a moment, not a single sound registered. Not until she looked towards where her sister had been standing. Now her mother leaned over Edith, finally the words came through:

 

“Edith! Edith, open your eyes.” Cora pleaded, trying to rouse her daughter. She brushed stray hair back; not paying attention to the blood that now soaked the coppery curls. Robert had rushed out to the hallway phone, calling for an ambulance and the police.

 

In a state of shock Mary slowly retook her seat on the sofa, allowing the whirlwind of activity to continue to spin around her. A small laugh escaped her as she wearily thought, won’t the papers have their way with us tomorrow…

 

 

* * *

 

 

NEWSPAPER MOGUL RICHARD CARLISLE DEAD IN DOMESTIC SCUFFLE 

The tycoon was shot and killed after making an attempt on the life of Edith Crawley, the sister of his wife Mary Carlisle. The incident occurred at the home of Robert and Cora Crawley, shortly after two others were arrested for the attempted murders of the homeowners by tempering with the space heater. 

Thomas Barrow and Sarah O’Brien confessed to having been hired by Carlisle himself to kill his wife’s parents and sisters in attempt to gain access to her inheritance. Carlisle’s business ventures have been steadily failing, he was also under investigation by the government for war profiteering. 

 

Edith Crawley has been hospitalized but is reported to be recovering nicely after being grazed by a bullet…

 

“Enough, I know what happens.” Edith pulled the paper away from Anna and tossed it onto the other chair in her room. She felt ridiculous being kept in the hospital over night. It was a minor bullet graze along her right temple. The bullet did more damage to the window it shattered than it did to Edith. “I think scuffle was a bit trivial.”

 

“I’m sure Matthew has a different definition.”

 

“I’m sure he does. Lucky for me you told him where we were.” Edith smiled, settling back against her pillows.

 

“I still don’t understand why he was so desperate to find Mary.” Anna wondered aloud.

 

“Probably something to do with their dalliance… although why he would come around to my parents’ house to discuss… hmm.” She blinked heavily, trying to puzzle it all out. It was hard to focus, her head was throbbing.

 

“Don’t strain yourself, Edith, get some rest. I’ll check on you later.”

 

Sleep came quickly, for once nightmares did not. Just a peaceful dream about Anthony, about him sitting quietly with her, piercing blue eyes shining as he held her hand. Warm fingers brushing her palm, drawing shapes and letters. It was a game she loved playing as a child, something she and Sybil used to do that she had told Anthony about. The problem with playing with him was that his touch was always so light, so soft that it tickled her skin. Never did Edith expect to have ticklish palms, but every time his index finger moved across the plane of her hand she would giggle and squirm away.

 

The finger tracing across her palm now wasn’t soft enough to tickle, but it was hesitant. It took Edith a moment to realize that she was awake and that someone was definitely touching her hand.

 

“A circle? That’s hardly challenging.” Edith muttered, turning to face her visitor.

 

“I was thinking the moon.”

 

“What are you doing here, father?” Her tone was quiet, she honestly didn’t have it in her to be combative.

 

“Your mother and I were outside, Anna said that you had fallen sleep.”

 

“Where did mother go?”

 

“In hunt of decent tea.”

 

“She’ll be hunting for a while in this hospital… it’s not that bad. I wasn’t actually shot.”

 

“If a bullet draws blood you go to the hospital, that’s just the way of the world.”

 

“Where’s Mary?” Edith asked, hoping to shift the conversation from herself.

 

“She was finishing up with the police and then disappeared with that Matthew fellow. Who is he?”

 

“Oh no, I’m not supplying gossip about Mary, that’s one lesson I’ve learned.”

 

“Your mother and I love you Edith, we honestly do.”

 

“It was more of an issue of being loved least.”

 

“Edith…”

 

“What did I do? What was so unpleasant about me that I was pushed to the back?” Edith turned away, hoping to hide the tears that were beginning to sting her eyes.

 

“It was never our intention. It wasn’t anything you did, you were just different from your sisters. You were independent, with that Crawley stubbornness. Mary was always getting into trouble and Sybil a bit…”

 

“Whimsical?”

 

“I was going to say naïve. They demanded attention, you never did.”

 

“I learned early on that I wasn’t going to get any attention.”

 

“Are you happy now? Strallan takes good care of you?”

 

“I am ridiculously happy with Anthony. We take care of each other.”

 

“I’m pleased to hear that. Truly pleased.” They lapsed into silence, Robert drawing another shape on her palm.

 

“Lamppost?”

 

Robert laughed, patting her hand gently.

 

“Far too good at this game, Edith.”

 

“Always Sybil’s complaint.” She smiled, trying to stifle a yawn.

 

“You should rest. Mary and those young men are coming around for dinner tomorrow. You should join us if you’re feeling up to it.”

 

“I’ll try.”

 

“I hope you will.” Edith nodded, her eyes drifting shut again, faintly aware of her father pressing a kiss to her forehead before leaving.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Edith! You look lovely, dear.” Cora smiled as she ushered her daughter into the house.

 

“I took a guess that the dress code for dinner hadn’t changed.” She shrugged, pulling her coat off to fully reveal the long silk dress. The color was chocolate brown with flecks of gold, the waist was ruched and fitted her tightly, the skirt and sleeves flowing freely.

 

“I can’t believe how you’ve matured.” Her mother cooed, brushing a few curls back, just as she did when Edith was a girl. But it was clear, her middle child had become a woman. She was no longer awkwardly skinny, with dangling arms. She carried herself with grace, like a well brought up young lady.

 

They went into the sitting room where the rest of the party was waiting. Matthew and Mary had taken to the loveseat, while Tom and Robert each took a chair. Edith found herself on the second sofa with Cora.

 

The sisters just nodded at each other. Mary too had dressed for the evening, black Dior. A mixture of dark silk, gauzy overlay, and velvet accents, she would certainly freeze if she went outside without a coat, but she too reminded Robert and Cora that their children had become adults.

 

Dinner at the Crawley house followed a very strict schedule. Cocktails were served at 7.30, dinner at 8 sharp, coffee and brandy served promptly after dessert. Any guest knew to arrive by 7.15 or else face an icy stare from Cora. So when the bell rang at 7.40 everyone but Robert froze. No one else was expected. The last time they had unwelcome guests in the house people were shot, so there was a natural hesitation. Robert simply stood and went to answer the door. The room remained silent as they strained to hear any signs of danger.

 

“Good to see you.” Robert greeted jovially. “Come through, everyone is in the sitting room.”

 

In that moment Edith forgot how to breathe. Next to her father stood Anthony, in his uniform, which fit looser now than it did before he left, slightly bruised but smiling. He and Edith merely looked at each other for a long moment, trying to comprehend the fact that they were in the same room together for the first time in years. In a flash Edith flew off the couch and into Anthony’s arms, hitting him with enough force that he stumbled backwards.

 

“Hello, my sweet one.” He murmured, keeping one arm around her waist while his free hand moved to stroke her curls. Both were unaware of the rest of the room, which was being emptied quietly by Cora. As the door shut Edith pulled her head back so she could meet him in a passionate kiss. It was as though they would collapse without each other to hold on to. Anthony returned the embrace with equal vigor, happily exploring her mouth with his own.

 

“I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you so much. I was so afraid something had happened to you.” She explained breathlessly between kisses. Anthony moved his hands to cup her face, gently brushing her tears away.

 

“Imagine my surprise, returning from war only to discover that you had been shot.” He chuckled, inspecting her bandage.

 

“It appears you haven’t escaped completely unscathed.” She countered, brushing her fingers across the bruises under his eye.

 

“Quite the pair.”

 

“As always.”

 

 

* * *

 

  
“So, Widow Carlisle, will you be considering another husband anytime soon?” Matthew grinned as they lingered behind the rest of the group.

 

“Considering how my last marriage went I’m not especially interested in the institution at the moment. Maybe in some time.” Mary smirked, continuing on into the dining room.

 

That would be the last word on the topic for the next few months. Matthew knew well enough that certain things must be left without discussion. Mary’s reluctance for marriage, the amount of months Edith was pregnant after she and Anthony married (as far as her parents were concerned little Agatha was premature), and the conversation that occurred between Mary and Matthew the first night they spent together. The night before Richard was killed because Matthew just happened to be in the right place at the right time… yes, some things were better left uninvestigated, any good detective would tell you the same.

 


End file.
